


Foreign Exchange

by Dreams of Eonneo (Eonneo)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Night Stand, Sex, Smut, Stranger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 05:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eonneo/pseuds/Dreams%20of%20Eonneo
Summary: You, the reader, have a one night stand with a foreign exchange student from your class.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Foreign Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> So this is loosely based on a dream I had. It's not good. It's not written well. It's just quick, dirty sex. I've had writer's block for weeks now and thought writing this piece of garbage would drag me out of it but it took over a week to just pump this out, and I hate it. Don't read this expecting anything good. It's just something to write while I ruminate over what I want next.  
I didn't even proof read it. Look, I'm giving myself ONE. SOMETHING to pass my time while I focus on fanfics and other junk. This is not indicative of my normal work and skill level.  
I'm not even letting it follow my 'No pieces under 2k words' since it's based on a dream and I can't really add too much filler past that.
> 
> **EDIT:** Which one of you fucking degenerates gave this kudos
> 
> **EDIT 2:** Y'all have the worst taste ever. >:( <s>I'm just messin' with y'all thanks for the kudos on this, glad it's not total garbage</s>
> 
> **EDIT 3:** I see you [Charon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharonDeLaPetiteMort) get out of here 
> 
> **FINAL EDIT:** don't read this

Class was almost over, and you were glad for it. After an hour and a half of some boring lecture on history – not that history itself was boring, but the professor wasn't entertaining – you were ready to go home. And finally, the time came, the small class packing their things and leaving the room. You looked back to see another student who you had had your eyes on for some time. He was tall, foreign of a place you weren't sure, a bit rugged in the features with short black hair and a close shaved beard to match. But you said nothing and took yourself out of the room.  
You walked across campus to where your ride – your friend – was supposed to pick you up. After waiting 30 minutes past when they were supposed to be there, you began to dread they had forgotten. Or just didn't care. No matter, you now had no ride home that wasn't going to cost some pocket change. So you began walking the streets, but didn't get far when a car pulled up to you.  
The window rolled down and inside, to your surprise, was the foreign student from your history class  
“Do you want a ride?” he asked. His accent wasn't as thick as you had expected, but you still couldn't place it. Him asking you for a ride made you a bit anxious. After all, you had wanted to speak to him for a while, but didn't have the guts for it.  
“I'm across the town. It's a long drive.”  
“That's no problem,” he assured, shrugging.  
You thought a moment longer, then agreed to it. For all you knew, he was a serial killer and you had just signed your death certificate. But he quickly made light conversation.  
“I'm glad to be out of class for the weekend,” he stated.  
“Me too. I like history, but it's boring if not taught well.”  
“I think the professor tries.” Then he shrugged again, nodding. “But you're right. She's boring.”  
A bit more silence, then you decided to ask him where he was from.  
“Hungary.”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“My mother wanted to move here. Start over. I'm not sure why she chose here, but I wanted to help her out. It was something new, at least.”  
“That's nice of you, honestly.”  
“Thanks.”  
The ride felt like forever, but traffic was light and the sound relaxed your anxious nerves.  
Finally, you arrived at your small apartment. You both sat in his car for a moment, the car still in drive with his foot on the brake. By some force unknown to you, by some ridiculous reason, you looked at him, awkwardly smiled, and asked, “Want to come in?”  
He didn't respond at first an you felt absolutely distraught for asking. Then he put the car in park, and your heart skipped a beat.  
“Sure.”  
Nervously, shaken, you lead him to your apartment. He stood a good foot taller than you, but you tried not to focus on it.  
At the door of the apartment, you fumbled to get the keys out and open it. You were so grateful you had cleaned over the weekend, the apartment spotless and perfect for a guest. He closed the door behind the two of you, then stood in front of it, arms crossed. Your heart rang in your ears. What the FUCK were you doing?  
“So,” he began, looking the apartment over. “Where's the bedroom?”  
You felt a scream build in your throat, but let it turn into a cough.  
“Uh,” you stuttered.  
“That's why you invited me in, right?”  
“Uh...,” you again repeated.  
He raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer to the question. This was ridiculous. But, you nodded, and pointed off to the side.  
“This way,” and you managed to carry your feet over to the room. He followed, and with every step you wondered if you were going to collapse of a heart attack. At the room, you drug yourself in, him behind you. The door closed, and you stood at the foot of your bed pathetically awkward.  
He seemed to realize this and took no offense, walking to stand in front of you. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him.  
“This _is_ what you wanted, wasn't it?”  
Consent! He was making sure you consented. And that made you feel a bit better.  
“Yeah,” you choked.  
He smiled, then leaned down to kiss you. You tried to not fall into it so easily – really tried – but it was no use. The excitement of it washed over you, and you felt your hands reach for his biceps. The feelings in you burned intense, your tongues a mess. It didn't take long for your own pants to come off, but for whatever reason you left your shirt on. Pulling back, he took his belt off and began to pull his pants down.  
You interrupted by pointing to your dresser right by the bed.  
“Condom. Top drawer.”  
“Prepared,” he teased, pulling the draw out and pulling from it a loose condom. Once ready, he leaned back over you, kissing, dotting your neck with them.  
Pressing his hips to yours, one arm under your own arm and the other holding himself up. He started slow, clenching the sheets. Your own hands worked under his shirt, clawing at his back. He seemed to like this, grunting quietly at the feeling of your nails, moving his hips harder against you.  
He shifted down, just a bit, still thrusting, lips meeting yours in a mess. You really weren't prepared for the fact that fucking a stranger was going to be so good; even that a <s>stranger</s> could fuck so well.  
Even so, the sex itself didn't last long, one last thrust and groan ending it.  
He apologized for the quickness, stating it had been a while. You didn't mind, and jokingly invited him back another day. He took you up on he offer, then cleaned himself up in the bathroom. He thanked you for inviting him in and left, and you spent the rest of the evening wondering what the fuck you had done.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it here; I told you so. It's GARBAGE. I didn't even proof read it. I'm just letting it be a filler piece to get my brain back in writing order. But a big thanks for taking the time to check it out.


End file.
